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Dan caught his reflection in the microwave over the stovetop. Who was that guy staring back at him? He’d spent so much time worrying about who his client really was—who was that guy in the reflection? A scrappy courtroom brawler?
Or, as Ellison suggested, a scared little boy who desperately wanted his daddy to come home and go swimming with him.
And why couldn’t he shake the feeling that his father had been trying to tell him something? Recently?
He scooped the polenta into bowls, then poured the mushroom ragu over it. A dose of specially prepared crema, a bit of lemon zest, and a sprinkling of Maldon sea salt. Voila! He carried plates to his partners as they gathered around the kitchen table. Like it or not, they needed to discuss the case. Kilpatrick said he planned to wrap up the prosecution tomorrow.
“Who do you think Kilpatrick will call for his grand finale?”
“No way of telling,” Garrett answered. “Another advantage of the hired gun. Someone like Jazlyn has to worry about her long-term relationship with fellow members of the bar. This guy is free to alienate everyone in town. He doesn’t care. He’ll collect his fee, blow town, and never see any of us again, in all likelihood.”
“Another reason for the DA to bench Jazlyn, I guess,” Jimmy said.
“I personally don’t think he wants Jazlyn to succeed him,” Dan said, “so he didn’t want her getting a big publicity coup on the cusp of election season.”
“Really?” Maria said. “You think this is politically motivated?”
“I think it’s Sweeney-motivated.”
“Which is politically motived.”
“Because everything is politically motived. Got a fix on the jury? Any problems?”
“Our consultant is worried about the skinny guy on the front row. He scowls almost every time you speak.”
“Wonderful.”
Jimmy tried to calm him. “One rogue juror isn’t enough to convict.”
“It might be,” Maria suggested. “He looks pushy. If he’s chosen foreperson, he’ll lead the discussion. He won’t be shy about telling people what to think.”
“Doesn’t mean everyone will listen,” Garrett said.
“Yes, we’d all like to think they will all stick to their guns and apply the standard of ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’ as instructed. But sadly, even for adults, peer pressure is a powerful influencer. It’s much easier to go with the flow than to chart an individual course. But I’m sure you can steer them in the right direction, Dan.”
“Any other concerns?”
“Our consultant is somewhat confused about...what our defense case will be.”
“Our strategy is clear. Blame the cops, the DA, and other highly placed muckety-mucks.”
“Yes, but what witnesses will you call?” She gave him a stern look. “Truth is, you only have one, and historically, you’ve opposed calling the defendant to the stand.”
“Because it’s incredibly risky. But in this instance, we have no choice. No one can tell Ossie’s story but Ossie. And there are parts even he can’t tell, because he doesn’t remember. Still, the jury needs to hear from him. I think all this nonsense about him swiping drugs and concocting elaborate murder schemes will disappear once the jury sees that he’s basically just a kid trying to find his place in the universe.” He paused. “Like all of us.” He finished his bowl. “If we have nothing more to discuss, I’m heading back to the crib.”
Maria popped up. “I’ll walk with you.”
“You will not. I’ll be fine.”
“You said that before.”
“Mr. K has a squadron of people watching me. I spot them occasionally. They’re good, but hardly invisible.”
“Still coming,” Maria said, grabbing her purse.
“Really no need...”
“Maybe I just want to get you alone.”
“Not buying it.”
“My Fitbit says I haven’t met my steps quota.”
“You’re not wearing your Fitbit.”
She pulled a face. “Damned nuisance, working with a guy who notices everything.” She opened the front door. “I’m still coming. Race you to the curb?”
* * *
The following morning, Dan fumbled with his cell phone as he hustled to the courtroom. Normally he didn’t talk and walk at the same time, but he decided to make an exception for his beautiful girlfriend who was also the mayor of the city.
“How did you sleep last night, cicada?”
He was honest. “I barely slept at all.”
“Ribs still aching?”
“Some. I never sleep during trials.”
“You know, I could help with that.” There was a soft purr in her voice.
“You could try. Probably wouldn’t work. But the attempt would be enjoyable.”
“I thought maybe we could get dinner tonight.”
“Sorry. I expect to spend long hours getting Ossie ready to go on the stand. He’s already terrified of what Kilpatrick might do to him.”
“Boo. Your girlfriend feels neglected. You need to carve out some quality time for her.”
“After the trial. I don’t expect our case will be lengthy. After Ossie, it’s in the jury’s hands.”
“And the jury is in your hands.”
“We’ll see. Let’s plan on dinner this weekend. Where would you like to go? Chez Guitano?”
“You know...” The purr returned to her voice. “My boyfriend is the best chef in the city. And his boat is extremely cozy...”
Well now. That was an offer he couldn’t refuse. “Consider it a date.”
Dan spotted several familiar faces in the courtroom gallery—the whole Coleman clan, Margaret Tully, Bradley Ellison, even Quint, the Dumpster diver. Could Kilpatrick be planning to recall a previous witness? Or was Quint just trying to get off the streets?
Phil Coleman, the youngest of Zachary’s sons, slapped a folded piece of paper into his hand. “Discovery request. For the civil case.”
“Seriously? Your bigshot lawyers couldn’t do this the proper way?”
“I told them I was going to see you. Why waste money on a stamp?”
“We’ve already produced everything relevant.”
“So you say. But if your client goes on the witness stand and says anything new, expect a major investigation.”
“Why would you think that’s going to happen?”
“Because you’re a clever lawyer, and he’s a kid pretending to have amnesia. If he has a sudden burst of memory at an opportune moment, we’re going to be all over you like butter on a hot skillet.”
He frowned. “You should never put butter on a hot skillet. Use olive oil. Healthier and tastier.” He walked on past.
He almost collided with Jazlyn. Given the circumstances, he didn’t expect to see her anywhere near. “Glad Kilpatrick allows you in the courtroom.”
She gave him a smirk. “Only because he needed me to bring him a file. He’s extremely territorial.”
“Not surprised. His career is based on his reputation as a superstar. Superstars don’t have assistants.”
Jimmy leaned in. “Batman has Robin.”
Jazlyn smiled. “Is Robin an assistant? More like a companion. Those two seemed very close.”
“What are you implying?”
“Stay calm, Jimmy. I don’t want to be Kilpatrick’s Robin. Not a fan of the man’s style.”
Interesting. “And how would you describe his style?”
“Win at any cost.”
“Is his fee dependent upon winning?”
“No. But the next fee might be. Superstars with poor records don’t get hired.”
“You think he’s on Sweeney’s payroll?”
“He doesn’t need it. He’s getting plenty of money through official channels.”
“I know Sweeney’s backing the DA’s mayoral campaign.”
“Yes. I so wish Camila would stay here forever. But it’s too much to ask.” She laid her hand on Dan’s wrist. “The police are still investigating the attack on you. But so far, they’ve come up with nothing.”
“I don’t think the cops kill themselves trying to protect defense attorneys.”
“There’s probably some truth in that, but I don't think anyone knows anything. Whoever orchestrated this attack covered his tracks.” She leaned closer. “And they may not be finished.”
“Believe me, Jazlyn, if those three thugs had wanted me dead, they could’ve killed me.”
“They didn’t want you dead then. They hoped the attack would be enough. But you clearly haven’t stopped, and if it starts to look as if this trial is going the wrong way...”
“I have people looking after me. I can take care of myself.”
She squeezed his hand. “Except it’s becoming increasingly clear that you can’t. And I don’t want to see you killed.” She paused. “Esperanza would be heartbroken.”
She turned abruptly and headed toward the door.